Terra's Song
by Revir
Summary: A new story in the much altered by me Summon Night: Swordcraft story universe. A mysterious Craftknight has to discover, once more, the joy and pleasure of life and leave the past... in the past. Fifth chapter is up!
1. Chapter 1: The Mark

AN: Hello campers, greetings and salutations :P. I really enjoyed the concept of this game, and I just couldn't resist writing something based on it. It is the first time I'm writing something other people will read (I hope) so, be gentle ;P.

As for the story itself, it is an original cast, mostly because I have no confidence in myself to keep the game's characters IC. It goes in Lyndbaum as well, and the mechanics will be similar to the swordcraft stories, the weapon crafting, guardian beasts and so on.

Disclaimer: I don't own the idea, the base of summon night swordcraft story. I can only take credit for this story... don't hit me.

Terra's Song

Chapter 1: The Mark

Darkness, the room was dark and silent and though someone was inside it, no breathing sound was heard. Then there were footsteps from outside the room. Far away but getting closer and closer till they stopped, right outside the room's door.

"It's time." A male voice said with authority while giggling a set of keys and placing one of them in the lock.

The door opened revealing light onto a small size room, around 4 per 3 meters, there was something like a really small forge attached to one of the walls, a small anvil and a bed with rusty metal framing and grey sheets. The room had no windows, though it had a barred chimney, right above that sorry-excuse-for-a-forge thing. Sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed, was a person who revealed no notion of recognition or intention of moving.

"It's time! They're waiting for you… c'mon." The young man said with slight annoyance and impatience. He must've been around his mid 20s, had short black hair and wore a dark blue uniform, with black combat boots, gloves and a vest. He had this look about him, like a bouncer ready to kick you out of the club at the least disturbance sign.

The figure slowly raised it's head, not looking at the bouncer, just staring forward at nothing in particular. When he was about to say something else, the figure rose, supported on the bed framing, picked up and put on a long golden brown jacket that reached the knees, and strapped something at the waist. Then turned at the bouncer, not looking directly at him… it was like he wasn't even there. Bret frowned at this, and then shivered slightly as the mysterious character seemed to shift the eyes at his. There was something about those eyes that made just about everyone feel uneasy. Not many could stand staring at them for long, maybe it was the pale silver colour that awkwardly seemed to change to an odd shade of a golden green… in other words weird, or maybe it was the intensity of those emotionless eyes, they seem to bore a hole in you and see right through, like you weren't even there. Either way it was very disconcerting.

A few seconds had passed till he suddenly remembered what he was there for.

"Ok, let's go!"

Bret stepped to the side to give passage but once more no movement came. He then let go a sigh and started walking through the halls towards a non specific destination. The extra sound of footsteps indicated him he was being followed. He sighed again and kept moving through a few more halls, always checking if he was still being followed, which he was. After around 10 minutes of walking, some cheering, screaming and howling was heard. They stopped in front of a blue armoured door. Once again Bret looked for the key that would open this door, placed it in the lock and turned it.

"Ok, you know the drill." He said while opening the door. The silent figure gave no nod nor acknowledgement as it stepped into the room. The roaring grew louder and louder and something could be heard over the cheering, of course Bret didn't understand it through the walls and the screaming, but he had a good idea of what was being said. "Good luck!" He screamed. He had no idea if he was heard or not, he knew that there would be no reaction even if he was. The cheering grew louder, so he closed the door, locked it and ran up the nearby staircase. He didn't want to miss this.

---------- -----------

In one word, the environment could be described as wide. It was a sort of covered arena or coliseum. A large round pit, about six meter deep, then rows and rows of, now, filled seats reached high up, almost to the ceiling. On the ceiling a set of monitors and speakers were placed, now showing mindless publicity, during the match it would switch to images of the field, from cameras set on top of the walls of the pit. The crowd was cheering endlessly, either excited for the beginning of the fight, or calling the salesmen or the bookies.

On one side, a special room was separated from the normal seats, the so called V.I.P. room. There the boss of the operation would sit, along with trusty companions or people he had to suck up to, and watch the fight. The Arena was his "little" project. Two or more people would fight for the entertainment of the crowd, and to lighten their pockets. There were days that the entrance fees along with the betting gains could reach and surpass the hundred thousand boam, which usually happened when their new undefeated star fought. No one could get a crowd going like that character… and with no special effort from it's part. His musings ceased as the door opened.

"Full house again, huh?" The newly arrival said as he leaned in the doorway. He was a man, maybe in his late 30s, with short light brown hair and a smugly attitude. He wore a worn out brown leather jacket with a white shirt underneath and equally worn out dark blue jeans and brown boots. We strolled in a very casual way and sat next to the host.

"As always." The other man said, smiling. If one would say that this man never suffered starvation, one might be correct. He wasn't excessively fat, he would said he had a large bone structure, but was sharply dressed, in his grey and black tailored (no standard would fit) suit and shiny black shoes. "Did you expected any different, Serge? It is always full when The Mark fights."

"Yes Bylrom that was indeed a fine catch. It's surprising how people still bet against that… craftknight right? Managed to convince our star to make weapons for you already?"

"That is just about the only refusal I get." Bylrom frowned slightly as he looked to his watch. "You sent the guard?"

"Twenty minutes ago. They should be there already." Serge answered.

"Very well." Bylrom lifted his gold rings full hand onto something resembling a phone, dialled a few numbers and set it on speaker.

"Yes, sir?" A voice from the device said in the middle of some interference.

"Time to start this."

"Very well, sir. Over." The voice responded and after a click the static ceased.

"This is gonna be good." Serge murmured.

---------- ----------

The place was ready to blow with noise, all the people were anxious for this next fight. As usual, a several number of fights came before the main event. First there was a four people tournament, the winner had the opportunity to challenge the star of the Arena, the one called The Mark. After the tournament a few lesser fights were arranged so that the winner had time to rest before the match.

There was a screeching sound from the speakers, the back noise lowered a bit.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you have been waiting for is finally here." The voice coming from the speaker was the same that spoke to Bylrom seconds ago, static could be heard from the speakers, some connection problem… no one really gave a danm anyway. "And without further delay. On the north corner," a sound very similar to drums could be heard "you have already seen what he can do, the winner of today's competition, the powerful, the brave, yet foolish, SIMON!"

The bars on the north gate rose and a figure came from it. He was tall, but not abnormally tall, an strong, ditto, young man, maybe in his early 20s. He wore an olive green trench coat and green trousers, he had a brown hat, like an old pilot leather hat, with leather straps dangling on the sides, brown belt and combat boots. He seemed to have straps with bullets attached to his coat, probably for the weapon he was holding in his right hand, a black gatling type.

"And on the south corner, you know who's there! The one you dragged your sorry asses here to see today. The one that haunts your dreams, that never sleeps, still undefeated and hard to the core. I said Simon was foolish, well, that's because he WANTS to fight the devil of the Arena, our shining star… THE MARK!"

For the first time that day, the Arena was silent. All that was heard were the screeching of the rising south gate. And one could almost hear the foot steppes of The Mark as it entered the Arena.

----------To Be Continued----------

So, how was it?

I'm already working on the second chapter, should put him soon. Any review will be more than welcome. I'll post the continuance either way, but reviews are always incentives right, RIGHT?!?! Anyway please R&R.


	2. Chapter 2: Fellow Jailbird

AN: I'm back (people run in fear) **pouts**

Ok, so I believe I have to make a few things clear. Well, first in addition to swords, axes, spears, knuckles and drills there's also guns, now that can a variety like normal guns can. In Simon's case, just imagine it's like Barret's, from Final Fantasy VII, with the sole exception that it isn't replacing his arm, the gun comes off and the hand stays. Second... I can't think of a second, but when I do, you'll be the first to know.

Also, and just in case my updates take their time, before the actual chapter there will be a resume of the character's bio, characters that appeared on the chapter before, if a character stays off screen and then shows up in a later chapter, all i can do in that chapter is redirect you to the last chapter of his/her/it's appearance and you can just scroll to the next chapter and read the resume, that is if you don't remember said character. Of course, you can skip this if you'd like, it will have no new (at least i'll try not to put new) information, if you read the previous chapters.

-Bios

The Mark - A mysterious antisocial craftknight that is an excellent fighter and has been participating in battles in the Arena for time enough so that it's undefeated and called a star. Lot's of people go to the Arena just to see this person fight. The Mark lives like a prisoner in a small room with a forge.

Bret- The bouncer like guard that lead The Mark to it's battle. There isn't much interaction between them, and he admires The Mark's fights.

Bylrom- The boss of the whole Arena operation, he organizes fights and the bet system as a living, and gets much money out of it, mostly due to The Mark's fights. He has a certain admiration for The Mark, and it's not only 'cause it helps him fill his pockets. He seems to value the opinion and company of Serge.

Serge- A friend of Bylrom, he seems to work for him though his exact job isn't specific at this point.

Simon- An other fighter, uses guns, a ranged weapon type, and must have some talent since he won a small tournament and now is going to fight the Mark, by choice.

Speaker voice- Little if anything is known about this character, it's assumed it's male, works for Bylrom and announces the fights.

-End of bios

Disclaimer- I don't own the concept of summon night swordcraft story (I can't believe I have to write this in the beginning of every chapter... I'm getting depressed)

Chapter 2: Fellow Jailbird

One couldn't tell if everyone was just admiring her, stunned by her appearance, like they weren't quite expecting that or if they thought it was a joke, but when the gate opened and she emerged from the darkness of the hallway she was previously at, everyone's mouth dropped.

From the gate came a young woman, in her late teens, most probably. She wore dark red low heel boots, with black leather straps, brown pants that fell off her waistline, and had black knee pads and belt. She had a grey top that left her torso bare but reached till her neck. She also still had the golden brown long coat she had put on in her room, but it seemed to be missing, or torned off, the right sleeve, leaving her right arm bare. She had a couple of rings and a bracelet on her right hand, some dark shiny material, hematite or ebony or something. On her left arm, covered by the still existing sleeve, she wore a black glove that covered her fingers. Her hair was of a golden brown, but a bit darker than her coat and was tied up in a high pony tail, leaving a few stray hairs falling over her face or tucked behind her ear. Both her ears had a three earrings set, two small and a bigger one that ended in a rounded cross and almost tapped her shoulders. Her features were soft with soft red lips and her eyes were closed as she reached the middle of the Arena and stopped.

Simon looked stunned. _This is The Mark?_ He thought. It wasn't at all what he expected. Then he noticed her torso wasn't completely bare, it seemed to have some black leather straps around it. He noticed she carried a big case, probably a weapon case, supported on those straps. A weapon case, yes, since he heard that The Mark was, or had been a craftknight. He and everyone else, with the exception of the girl who stood in front of him and two people in the special seats, jumped as the speaker voice suddenly broke the dead silence that had invaded the area.

"The battle will begin in five minutes, you have that time to place or change your bets." On queue, all over the Arena, small lights turned on to show where those taking the bets would be. They moved in groups of three, to prevent any confusion, and took notice of the ones betting through identification bracers they had received on entrance.

Bylrom sure knew how to set a deal, so details like that didn't pass him. No one, but the guards on duty, was allowed to enter or exit the Arena without those bracers. No scams where allowed but his own. He smiled as he looked at her. He had acquired her from some slave driver that passed by. Since she had weapons and didn't seem interested in less "rough" work, he made her fight just for show and was positively stunned by her talent. He then proposed a deal with her. She would get a room with a forge, in order to keep her weapons in working condition, and she would fight for him, she would also get a really small percentage of the profit. Bylrom might be considered a thug and a creep, but his word was his word, and he gave her payment, though she didn't actually spend it, after each fight she won. And she had won against everything he threw at her. By examining the excellence in her weapons he discovered she also had a great talent for crafting. He tried for several times to convince her to forge for him, but she only replied (yes she talked, just not much) she didn't make weapons anymore, and he would leave it at that for a while.

Serge was smirking, like it seemed he always was. He admired her skill and was curious of what might happen if they ever fought. He was quite good with drills, of course she seemed to be good with any weapon and against any weapon. Still he wanted to fight her, but the occasion was never quite right. Though he admired her, there was something about her that didn't click. He noticed it the first time he looked into her eyes. They looked void, no emotion, not in her eyes or in anything about her and that has, since the beginning, made him feel slightly uneasy around her. It was his impression that if you can't feel nothing it's because you're dead. When he told her that, she actually smiled an emotionless smile that could only be described as one because the corners of her mouth rose. And she said, in her breath taking soft emotionless voice "Maybe I am." He was really freaked out at that, and the memory of that still made him shiver. And there she was, just standing there, feeling nothing… dead.

"Time's up! No more bets will be accepted after this point!" The speaker voice returned and informed. "Now, fighters, get ready!"

Simon shook his head, dismissing whatever thought that roamed his head at the time and readied himself.

"I Simon summon thee, come and aid me in this battle, come forth Zipper!" he evoqued, and next to him a bright light emerged, and when the light faded a summon creature took it's place. It was somewhat smallish, it looked like a pink ball with two pink arms and yellow gloved four finger hands. It wore a hat very similar to it's master's and a black mask with two holes revealing closed eyes. It hovered next to it's master ready to take any and every command it might receive as his master held his gun with both hands waiting for his opponent to get ready.

She slowly opened her eyes to look at him. It took all of his nerve not to jump back in fright with that sight, her eyes were really creepy. At the moment they looked silver like, but in the center it had a very light golden green. And they were penetrating, he suddenly felt like he was stripped of all his clothes and left bare to the world to see. It must be a very uncomfortable sensation.

Her eyes stared at him, then she narrowed them while looking at him. He seemed mildly strong, lack of ammunition wouldn't be a problem for him, she wouldn't win that way. Focusing on his weapon she saw a heavy gatling type machine gun. Those had a fast firing time but were heavy. She took it under consideration when she raised her eyes again, not really looking at Simon, almost through him like his head was missing or something, and shifted her position, raising her right arm in order to reach her weapon case. Sudden movement almost made Simon jump back, but he repressed the sensation and prepared himself.

Reaching in her case, she drew a relatively long blade, a sword. For a moment he disconnected from the situation and just stared at the weapon. It was, in lack of a better word, an outstanding piece of art. The hilt was brown with strings of gold rounding it and a silver stone in it's end. Gold plating with decorations covered the connection of the blade and hilt, that adapted perfectly in her hand. The blade itself almost made his mouth drop. It was white and gold, with markings on the middle and it seemed sharp as hell. He snapped out of it and looked at her expectantly. He was waiting for her to summon her guardian beast. There was no way she could have done such a weapon without a guardian beast, so he waited. It never happened.

"Are you ready?" the speaker voice sounded once more.

The girl nodded, a light nod but since all eyes were placed in her, everyone noticed. Simon was fuming when he nodded as well. _Who the hell does she think she is? Who the hell does she think I am? Why doesn't she call her guardian beast? Does she think I'm not worth the effort, that she can beat me like that? THE HELL SHE CAN!"_

His face must have betrayed his thoughts since she slightly tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.

"BEGIN!"

The thundering, deafening back noise returned in a burst, not that either of them were listening. The second the speaker voice gave the go, Simon raised his arm, with the help of his left arm, and the gun aiming straight at her and fired. When the smoke cleared she wasn't there, she was running to the right making a really wide circle around him, that only those in the higher seats could tell it was a circle. He quickly turned and followed her movements, the bullets were right at her heels, but never hit her. When a stray shot got ahead of itself she just moved her sword to it's path. Simon was getting momentum and his moves were getting faster, but still couldn't hit her, she matched his acceleration and kept herself out of reach of the bullets.

"Ya won't be able to keep that pace for long." He whispered more at himself then any other. But, running forever wasn't her style, though she could probably keep going till he had to reload. And soon enough, he would learn that she wasn't about to run forever.

When he was so into his turning motion that it started to become harder to control, he wondered, but didn't have time to think when suddenly she changed her trajectory, placing her sword directly in front of her to stop the bullets, and headed straight at him. With the speed she gained, she reached him in seconds, didn't even give him time to stop turning. He was wide open for a hit that could kill him, and as his life started flashing before his eyes, it wasn't all that an interesting life, he thought he was as good as dead. But she had other plans. She got really close, with her blade at her side, and jumped over him swinging her sword so it hit the gun, he heard the sound of metal against metal at least twice. She twirled over him, supporting her free hand on his shoulder, and landed on one knee on the other side of him.

They were back to back for a second, but since he never stopped turning he soon was aiming his gun at her back, he had stopped firing the moment she jumped at him.

"Not bad, but not good enough either." He said while smirking wide. He prepared for the finish and held the trigger. And for the second time that day, the Arena was silent.

"It's over." Serge said high up in the V.I.P. box. Bylrom nodded in agreement.

**Click click**. Was all that was heard. She slowly stood up and turned to him. And once more tilted her head. _What the hell…_ his thoughts were interrupted when his gun fell off his arm. Looking more closely at the weapon lying on the ground he realised what happened. His mind went back to the moment she jumped at him. At that time she must have hit the straps that held the gun to his arm and the ammo strap, breaking or changing the position of one of the bullets so that the gun would block. He took his eyes from the gun and into her hand. _Beaten by a sword… of course!_ It was then he fell down (mentally) and realised she planned it from the start. She picked a sword, since it had no agility penalty, so that she could avoid the bullets with her speed and then get close to cut the straps. Other weapons were heavier, she would move slower and the knuckles might not be enough to cut the leather. She really didn't need her guardian beast to defeat him, he didn't even had time to use his, which was still hovering near him, with a sad expression (if you can get that from a ball). Her hand rose, along with her sword and it's tip was left millimeters away from his, now raised chin.

"I… I give up…" he said, completely defeated and hung his head, since she removed the blade and replaced it in her weapon case the moment he said those words.

The crowd roared in celebration, even most of those that lost their bet cheered for her, it had been an amazing, if yet fast, battle. She definitely deserved her title and position as star of the Arena.

"And the winner is, our still undefeated star, The Mark!" most probable was that not many heard the announcement due to the heavy noise, and by the time it was made she was halfway out of the Arena. She didn't compliment the public, nor thanked them for their support and admiration. Once again, it was like they weren't even there. She stepped through the gate, they were still cheering, and Simon's head was still low.

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"Great battle, as usual." Serge said as he looked at Bylrom. "She's antisocial as always as well. She has a lot of fans, would have more if she celebrated her victories with the crowd."

Bylrom frowned slightly. "It's the way she is, nothing we can do about it." Serge looked away. "It doesn't really matter, we're not interested in starting a fan club anyways, she's a fighter, a gladiator you may say. She's here to fight and that she does." Bylrom said as he turned to face his friend. "I can't really complain, even the way she is, she brings people to see her, and that fills all of our pockets. Can't complain."

"Hmm…" was all Serge 'said' as he got up and left the room, leaving Bylrom alone with his thoughts.

--------- ----------

It was already night, at least she assumed it was night, no outside light reached her room. She guessed she was below the ground, it really didn't bother her. Bret had escorted her back to her room, and Bylrom had already paid the customary after fight visit, and gave her a hand full of boam. This surprised her a bit in the beginning, that he actually gave her money. She figured that since she wasn't really going anywhere, he wasn't really loosing that money.

The light was really low so the room wasn't completely dark. Upon arrival she examined her blade and decided she didn't need to repair it since the damage was less then little, she just tossed the weapon case to the corner, her coat on the bed, and once more sat on the floor, leaning against the rusty bed framing. Her thoughts wondered to the past, the happy past. She quickly shook her head dismissing those thought that kept creeping their way into her conscience. She couldn't stop them while she slept, she could still keep them out while she was awake.

Another sign that it was night was the familiar sound of footsteps, a guard bringing her dinner, food she barely touched. But this time there were two sets of footsteps and what seemed to be wheels, like a tray cart. Seemed they found someone to serve her… Whatever. She thought and closer her eyes again.

"In there!" A man's voice, not Bret, this was Kurt, he wore the same uniform as Bret, but his hair was… well imagine a blond Elvis and you can see what Kurt's hair was like. He usually just set the tray on the floor near the door, not saying a word, but apparently he found someone to boss around.

She looked like a little girl, maybe around ten years old, but that was only if you weren't paying to much attention. Upon closer inspection one would see she was in fact a summon creature, probably bought off some slave driver. She had pointy black cat ears, and short, but volumus green hair, with silver highlights, she wore a simple upper part, covering her small chest and leaving most of her tummy bare, with straps of fabric over her shoulders, a wide belt like thing and a short skirt open in her left side. The clothes were from different shades of green and brown. She had several black bracers all over her, one in each upper arm, lower arm, and two per leg. Her wrists and heels were furry and she had a long furry green tail. Her face could also make one confuse her for a human child, if it wasn't for her yellow cat like eyes and yellow markings under those. She also had, and it seemed out off place, a dark blue neck chocker. A resent addition, to prevent her from escaping, perhaps.

She held the tray nervously and carelessly and for a moment she thought the little creature was going to drop it. However she managed to put it down softly near her. She had been observing her from the corner of her narrowed eyes and she noticed how nervous she seemed. Those big yellow eyes start staring at her own when she opened them and turned to her and, though surprised by them, she actually seemed mesmerized by them, tilting her head and looking closer. The moment seemed to last, though it was only for a few seconds, and without really knowing why, she nodded her thanks to the child, which made her wiggle her tail and smile wider. Now, the Mark was taken back by this, not only such an innocent, honest smile made her want to smile as well, but she nodded, she willingly interacted, and she hadn't done that in a while.

A flicker of emotion flashed through her eyes, but as quickly as they were there, they were gone, and little Lué almost doubted they were there in the first place. But she chose to believe they were. As she put on her nervous, fearful look back on, like it was a mask, and headed to the door, the young woman wondered, maybe not that innocent…

As the stupid-hair thug, also known as Kurt, lead Lué to the next meal service she was thinking that maybe she was the one. Maybe, with her, she could do it.

----------To Be Continued----------

Yay, second chapter. don't get used to such a short time between updates, yes you imaginary readers, I'm talking to you!

Having imaginary readers is tough... I want real ones :(. I'm warning you, no not you imaginary, you have no say in the matter... where was I, oh yes. Unless I get some reviews, and read carefully since it's very important... I'll keep writing this! No matter if no one reads it, I'll keep writing and my imaginary readers will be forced to withstand my stories alone!!!


	3. Chapter 3: The Rescue

Here I am again!! (loud cheers are heard on the background) My, oh my. Never mind them, my imaginary readers are rejoicing. Since I have real ones now, I'm thinking of getting rid of them. (Dead silence) Hahahah, I'm just kidding, heh… heh… (Revir receives many accusing stares) **coff coff**, anyways, moving along.

I am very, very happy to finally having readers and reviewers. It's only because I like to know what people think of my story, I can only know that if the people who read review. But, for all those that read but don't review, it's ok. And for all those who don't read, you're not too late to start. Oh, and I finally got a decent WORD, that actually points out errors, so there won't be more (at least not so many) errors. I also reviewed the previous chapters, much less errors now.

Ok, my pre-chapter monologue will have an additional part, apart from the mindless chatter, bios and disclaimer, it will also have a "Thank you so much for reviewing" part. I will not be updating this part, so I will only mention those that have reviewed till the publication of the chapter in question. For those to who only the actual chapter matters, you can skip all this.

**Thank you**, Herbert O. Sanchez. I really appreciate your advices and compliments, and I am trying my best to follow them. Self pity from this chapter on is gone :P. Your support has cheered me on, and I too don't like those who hold their stories hostage for reviews, I like the stories, and must confess I do help paying the ransom, but it is frustrating. Rest assure I will never do that, with this or any other story I might write. Thanks again :D.

**Thank you**, Jenvaati. I was SOO happy to know you're liking my story, I was actually jumping up and down when I read your reviews, it wasn't pretty… anyway, I believe descriptions are essential for the readers to get the whole picture like I do, or at least very similar. You think the name is cool? If you only knew how long it took me to come up with it, and that was only temporary till I got a better one… never happened… About you thinking it was a guy, I hope other readers were as surprised, I did my best, and became a bit repetitive at times, trying not to reveal The Mark's gender. And don't worry, guns won't have more screen time than the other types of weapon, well I might use swords a lot… About your offer, I tried to send you a message, then read your profile… I'll try sending a mail later.

-Bios

The Mark – A mysterious girl, gifted in the arts of fighting and crafting. She's extremely antisocial, which is, sometimes confused with rudeness (I'm not saying she's not rude). We see her fighting style is based on speed and strategy, and is, till now, undefeated in the Arena. She appears not to use, or doesn't have a guardian beast. Though usually emotionless, an encounter with a furry summon creature seems to prove other wise.

Simon- A fighter that faces and loses against The Mark. He uses guns and has a Guardian Beast called Zipper, which he doesn't have the opportunity to use. He loses badly against her and gets pretty down about it.

Bret- The bouncer like guard that leads The Mark to her fights and back.

Bylrom- The boss of the whole Arena operation. He seems to like the fact that The Mark makes his pockets heavier, and doesn't seem to mind her attitude, or lack there of.

Serge- A friend and/or mercenary working for Bylrom. He finds it extremely disturbing that the girl shows no emotion, and has the wish to face her someday. What, exactly he does for Bylrom, is still unknown.

Speaker voice- He announces the fights, and winner.

Kurt a.k.a. Stupid-hair – a blond Elvis impersonator that thinks he's all that, and likes to boss people around. He was responsible for bringing The Mark her meals, but got another to that for him.

Lué – A small summon creature enslaved by humanity and forced to deliver food to the rooms of the fighters of the Arena. She actually manages to make The Mark show some emotion, and her heartfelt desire is to escape that place.

-End of bios

Disclaimer: I don't own the original story and concept of Summon Night, Swordcraft Story, but this one is all mine.

Chapter 3: The Rescue

Blue sky, the bluest she'd see in months, so clear. She was lying on a grassy hill overlooking a valley. What a sight, one could see all the way into the ocean, so far away. Sudden movement caught her eye, and something jumped out a nearby bush. She hit the deck and the figure missed by a millimetre. She just left herself lying on the grass, laughing out loud.

"You call that a sneak attack?" she said smiling.

"It would have worked if you stayed still!" A female voice returned, accusingly and annoyed.

"Well, it wouldn't be much of a training exercise if we altered the rules of the game, would it?"

The female pouted which made her laugh out loud again. Both her faces turned serious, though. She felt something was wrong. The sky suddenly turned grey and lightning could be heard from afar. She got up and her female friend was no where to be seen. She shouted a name, but she couldn't hear anything over the lightning that started to burst right over her. She looked around her and into the valley, it was burning. _When had it started burning?_ She wondered, as she turned, still looking for the other one, a man in a dark cape showed up outta nowhere. He had a sword on him, it glimmered in the light flashes, red, it was bathed in blood, her blood? She was bleeding, her hands were full of it. Next to this dark knight, she could see the armour shining from underneath his cloak, there was another. It seemed female but she was hovering, she wore a large hat and a closed cloak. This one suddenly fired a fire blast that shot right next to her, she turned and her friend was on fire, it seemed like half of her was missing. She screamed, but once again no sound was heard. She looked down, her left arm was also burning, like it was disintegrating. She screamed again, then noticed the knight had come closer, he raised his sword and…

She woke up sweating and breathing hard. When she took notion of her surroundings she realised she was in her room. She let go her breath in relief and let herself drop onto the bed again, with her left hand over her face. _Such a cold hand_. With her right hand she turned on the light to medium and looked at the ceiling. _So much for clear blue skies._ She though. She looked at her hand, it glowed in the light, a certain metallic like glow. She sat on the bed and looked at her arm more closely. Yes, it was made of metal, it had been for quite the few months, ever since that day with the dark knight and cloaked summon creature. Now she was quite sure it had to have been a summon creature, only one could have done that. She shook her head again and once more fell on the bed. She didn't want to think about it. It was enough to dream about it every night, she didn't need to haunt herself while awake as well. She turned out the light but remained lying on her bed with her eyes open. She didn't want to go back to sleep. Not yet.

---------- ----------

Kitchen duty, that was her assignment while she wasn't serving the prisoners or fighters or whatever they were called, they still lived in cages. When she was sold to that fat baldy, she had the full notion she'd be working hard for a living, now she was working in the kitchen. The first time she entered, she was stunned. It was quite the large kitchen, geared with everything a kitchen could ever need. She remembered the chief of the kitchen, they called him Butch and had a really big knife, talking about her to the big boss, over something they called phone.

"Cooking… no, I don't want it near the pots. The fur, I don't want it's fur on the food!" He talked like she wasn't even there, right next to him. That made her want to bite him, but she controlled that impulse. "Washing dishes? No, not that either. Fur, it's the FUR! I can't have it anywhere near things where people will eat from, no." He also talked about her like she was a thing, an object. It didn't take long for her to reach the conclusion, she didn't like this man. "Do I have to get her working somewhere in MY kitchen? Yes, sir. I'm sorry sir I know it's your kitchen, but…" She couldn't help but smile as the big muscled man, Butch, cowered in fear. "I guess she can serve, the trays have the food covered, and there is no risk of contamination." _I'm not a disease!_ The biting feeling returned and her tail was all frizzy. "Mop, she can wash the floor, that's the best I could do. Yes. Yes, sir. Very well, sir."

And so, there she was, mopping the kitchen floor. Of course it wasn't that bad, this way she didn't have to cook, she couldn't do toasts, she liked the fact that she didn't need to wash dishes, she didn't like what the detergent did to her fur, and nobody bothered her much while she was washing the floor. And since that didn't require her full attention, she could think about other things, mainly, a way to escape.

Lué had been summoned to this world by an apprentice summoner, and the boy was so good at it that he couldn't send her back, so she was stuck on this human dominated world. It wouldn't have been that bad if most humans didn't treat creatures from different worlds brought by summoners, also known as summon creatures, as their own personal slaves. Unfortunally for her, that type was about the only one she'd ever encountered, so her hope in the human race wasn't all that much. The only one that hadn't treated her like an animal was that strange human female in that cell.

She was mopping the floor at the time, not really paying attention to what she was doing. _She looked sad, somehow. _Her thoughts wondered while, quite vigorously, moving the mop. She's _supposed to be cold and antisocial, but she nodded, and almost smiled, I think._ She had a pretty good hearing. And though at the moment she couldn't hear the curses and insults she was getting from the kitchen staff, that were having a hard time evading and dodging the frenetic moves she was making with her mop, she had over heard some of the guards talk about her. The Mark, they called her. It seemed that The Mark was an excellent fighter, undefeated so far but she was also very quiet and uncommunicative. She didn't say anything, unless it was extremely necessary, seemed to not do any unnecessary motions and didn't react to the presence of people nor their questions. _"And looks at people like they're not there" I don't get that. Her eyes were kinda different. They say she doesn't feel anything, but there was something there. Maybe._ Her movements were approaching the berserker tycoon status. There were people on the balconies, on each other and running to the exits. The floor was shining, though.

_I'm sure she wants to escape as much as I do. I mean, who doesn't? I'll have to ask her, she's strong, she must be able to escape. Hmm… so why doesn't she? What reason can she have to stay? Stop thinking about stuff you can't know! Now, plan, plan, I've gotta get a plan to convince her to escape with me. Yes, I'll do it! I'll escape this place! Yes!_

"YES!" She cheered lifting her arms and jumping into the air. Problem? She was still holding the mop and it managed to find it's way to the face of, no other then Butch. She still hadn't noticed it though.

**Coff coff**. She jumped again, this time however, for another reason.

"What do you think you're doing, fur bal?" Apparently she had been, quite literally, shining Butch's shoes with her mop, also wetting the bottom of his pants, for the last two minutes. And, though they were shining, he didn't seem too happy about it. The rest of the crew was either hiding from the mopping tycoon behind him, watching from behind the door, or still on the counters.

"Heheh." She laughed nervously. "Washing the floor?" She finished with a great wide smile. The 'audience' either laughed slightly, opened their mouths in disbelief or closed their eyes so that they wouldn't see that poor little creature's screaming in pain.

Still smiling, she suddenly felt great pressure on the back of her neck as Butch grabbed her and dragged… no, not drag since her paws didn't hit the floor, but carried her out of the room.

---------- ----------

"Now, fighters, get ready!"

There she was again. Once more she was to fight the winner of those mini tournaments, one more fame and fortune seeker about to get a beating. This one seemed more buff, much more buff. He must have been around his early or mid thirties, had dark tanned skin and reddish brown, really long, hair, tied up in a pony tail reaching his waist. He wore a sleeveless white shirt untucked in his loose brown pants and brown sandals, he also wore a black bracer in each wrist. He was, previous to the announcement, waving this really big war axe around, like it was a simple stick. _Quite troublesome_. She thought.

"Show yourself before me, Targo, I demand it! Come forth, creature of the dark, Bol!" Much like before, a strong light appeared next to him, and when it cleared a different type of ball was there. It was dark purple, with big red eyes, pointy ears, small devil like wings, a long tail, cat like mouth and a small silver horn.

He placed himself immediately in position. She looked him up and down once more, and almost sighed. Reaching her case, she took out a long staff with a blade in it's end. The spear earned loud cheers from the already cheering crowd. It looked much like the sword of the other day, most likely made from the same type of material. The staff was of a light brown decorated with golden markings. The blunt end had a ball, half silver half gold and the blade was bright white with gold engravings. The blade glimmered in the artificial light of the Arena as she turned it, blade down, to her side. She was ready.

"BEGIN"

Targo's first move was a wide swing, to which The Mark easily dodged by backing out. Axe types were a handful, so touch and run was the strategy to take. The spear helped in this, since she didn't have to be too close to land a blow. Before the second swing, however, he raised his axe and screamed.

"ENCHANT WIND!"

"Oh crap." She whispered under her breath. This was becoming very troublesome indeed. An axe user is dangerous to face as it is, their swings pack quite a punch. What the wind element does is that when attached to a weapon increase their range. Meaning, even if the axe doesn't touch you, you still get hurt from the air motion created. She would have to be extra careful from here on.

The axe gained a greyish glow, more like it was covered in mist, and at the next swing she had to get a lot farther to get out of harms way. She evaded a few more swings, she could keep it up till the effect wore off and he had to recast it, but waiting wasn't much of her style anyway. _Time to devise a strategy_. She had been watching him without attacking, but it was time to get offensive. After a swing, she turned on herself and tried to hit him with the blade. He blocked it with the blade of his axe and swung again. She backed away and attacked again, this time twirling the spear around her and attacking with the blunt end. He blocked again with the blade. She backed off a bit more. She had a plan now. She went in for another series of attacks, to which he blocked every time, one of these attacks was directed straight at his face, he easily brought the blade of his axe before his face to block it, like before he waited till he felt no pressure on it then swung again. That was it, the last piece of information she needed. _Now for the kill!_

She twirled the spear in her right hand, making it spin several times. He got tense with anticipation, making sure he could react quickly to anything she might be trying to pull here. She suddenly stopped the spinning, grabbed it while it's blade was aiming at the ground and charged. She gave a few steppes and attacked, he blocked. She turned and attacked again, again blocked. After a few more strikes she dodged a high swing by ducking low turning on herself and twirling her weapon she aimed at his head and stroke. Targo managed to block it at the last second, placing the blade of his axe between the blade of her spear and his face. _Way too close for comfort!_ He didn't have time either to breathe in relief nor to let his guard down. He moved the axe around, readying his next swing, expecting her to back off, like she had done so far.

Mistake number one: never expect her to do anything; she'll surprise you every time. She is NOT predictable. Mistake number two: always mind your reactions to her attacks. She doesn't do wasted moves, everything she does serve a purpose. This second one is an advice to try not to react the same way to similar attacks on her part.

When he was raising his axe for a new swing, a sharp pain on his left side made him wince slightly. When he looked down, there she was, near not far. When Targo raised the axe so it covered his face, it also prevented him to see her, to follow her movements. And that was mistake number three: never loose sight of her during a fight. So, when he couldn't see her she got an opening, the strike to his head wasn't at her full strength, she expected him to block. So the second the weapons connected she withdrew from her attack, turned on herself and hit him on his left side with the staff. He didn't expect it so she twirled her weapon and hit him right in the stomach with the blunt end of the spear, making him stumble back. As she turned to hit him on the side again, he had already recovered from the surprise attack, and since he was the strong type, her strikes didn't do enough damage to knock him down, and he grabbed the staff close to his side with his left hand. Her weapon was stuck and she was wide open to attack. He raised his axe with his right hand, the swing wouldn't be as strong but it could still kill her.

---------- ----------

The audience was stunned. Everyone was at the edge of their seats. She had never been at such a disadvantage before (not that they have seen anyways), not only would she loose, she could die. Bylrom actually almost fell off his chair. He was up and glued to the glass of the V.I.P. balcony. Serge was out on an assignment, but he would surely do the same. There was no way anyone could escape that.

---------- -----------

From a hiding spot on an Arena entrance around the middle, a small figure almost squeaked. Lué ran out of her hiding place, from where she had been watching the fight since the beginning. She heard from the others she was a good fighter, but somehow good didn't make her justice. The way she moved, anticipating every move, it was simply outstanding, almost like she was dancing. A frenetic life threatening dance, but still a dance. She was sure now, both of them would be able to escape that place. But now, what would happen now? She didn't see a way out of it, and as the whole crowd was screaming at the upcoming disaster, while half was falling off their seats, Lué screamed.

"NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!"

--------- ---------

Targo raised his axe with his right hand, the swing wouldn't be as strong but it could still kill her. Though killing her wasn't his original intention, he didn't see any other way now. Maybe he could just chop her arm off, or maybe the girl had the reasoning to forget and let go of her weapon to try to escape.

An uncountable number of scenarios passed through his and everyone else's minds as the axe lowered in, all thought it was, slow motion, but I gotta say, no one could imagine what actually happened (except me :P).

----------To Be Continued------------

---------------------Just Kidding :P----------------------

Time, it seemed, had been moving in slow motion as the axe descended to her doom, when suddenly time seemed to stop completely. And the other half of the crowd fell off their seats.

The axe, it seemed, had stopped in mid air, millimetres away from her shoulder, actually cutting her coat. A closer inspection, however, would reveal that what had stopped was the hand holding the axe. It would take a great deal of strength to stop a descending swing like that, and she had done so, with her left hand. Her hand had stopped his, mid swing and was holding it without support. The thought: "_That's impossible!_" must have crossed everyone's mind, but truth was, it did. He actually felt her hand crushing his with her strength, he also though it was strange her hand felt so cold. A low creping sound, much like when a machine malfunctions, was heard, he was so stunned that most probable was that only she heard it, she looked at her arm and winced. He looked at her, partially snapping out of the trance he fell in, and stared into her eyes. They were no longer silver with golden green in the centre, but the gold and green seemed to have spread and almost covered the silver. Then she let herself fall back bringing him with her. She rolled on the floor and kicked his stomach with both her feet and threw him at a considerable distance.

She rose doing a "flippy" move, supporting her hands on the ground and swinging her legs over her head then propelling herself to a standing position, and turned to face him. During the rolling she had twisted his arm with her left hand so in mid flight, on his part, he dropped the axe, while she was still holding her spear he released when she dropped to the ground. She kicked his weapon farther away and walked to him. He had managed to turn himself so now he was with his back to the ground, looking at the ceiling, still thinking on what the hell happened. She was now on his line of sight, looking at him, holding her spear to the side, blade aiming at the ground. She backed away a bit while he slowly and sorely got up, rubbing his side where the spear first hit. Most of the crowd didn't quite catch up to the recent events, so it was relatively quiet.

"You win." Targo said. He didn't seem extremely upset about it. He understood somehow, that she deserved to win, she fought hard, never gave up and had a good strategy. Her win was fair and he was pleased with himself since he knew he gave his best. He had no regrets.

"And The Mark WINS!!" The speaker voice roared and then the crowd woke up and cheered loudly.

On the pit the two fighters were facing each other. She returned her weapon to the case and looked at him. He nodded in recognition of her victory and surprisingly, she nodded back, a very light nod but a noticeable one, if you were paying attention, and no other human was, they were too busy trying to collect their winnings or whining of their loses. But, a small creature near the exit noticed it, and smiled before leaving the Arena..

---------- ----------

Bret opened the armoured door and waited for her to get out. He looked somewhat tired.

"That was an amazing fight! Congratulations, for a moment there I thought…" "BRET!!!" Kurt's call cut him off. He was running down the hallway with a very concerned look on his face. "What?" Bret asked. "We got trouble, we need everybody!" "But I have to…" Both looked at her,, she raised an eyebrow. He had to take her to her room. Kurt approached her, suddenly quite serious, and said. "Can you go back to your room on your own?" "Kurt, I can't…" "Quiet, this is an emergency," he spat at the man, then he turned back at her "can you?" She looked at him straight in the eyes. She didn't nod, didn't say a thing, she just turned her back at them and walked off. The two men looked at each other, shrugged taking that as a yes, and ran off from where Kurt had come from to deal with whatever problem there was.

As she was walking through those halls she had passed so many times before, her thoughts returned to the Arena. That was the second time she nodded without actually needing to. What was going on! Her thoughts were interrupted by some screeching sound from the way she was headed to. Could it be the troubles Kurt mentioned? No, it couldn't since they had gone in the opposite direction. While approaching the noise became clearer. Someone was screaming, and possibly beating someone else. She could make out some words out: kitchen, wet, escape, mop, scratch… it didn't seem to make much sense.

In the next intersection she could see what was going on. A large muscled man, waving around a big kitchen knife, was kicking around a small figure. Neither of them seemed to have noticed her presence. The figure looked familiar to her. It was that small summon creature that brought her dinner the other night, the first "nod incident". She had curled in to a ball to minimize the damage taken, but even from afar she could detect a few bruises on her. She narrowed her silver eyes then shook her head. It was none of her business. A couple of steppes later, the small creature must have been hit in a soft spot since she let go a louder scream. The Mark stopped. Her eyes widened and the green, followed by the gold, started to spread, like spilled liquid on some surface it covered both her eyes completely. They became green, a strong bright green, and golden on the centre. Her muscles got really tense and, if anyone was around they would have noticed the change in posture. Suddenly she looked really, really pissed.

The guy (Butch, if you haven't noticed it was him yet) was getting tired of kicking her. That little brat had scratched his arm after he carried her out of the kitchen by her neck, earlier that day, and ran away. After much searching, he spotted her near the exit of the Arena, where she dumped into some people, he figured they were spectators of the pit fights. Without noticing it had been someone else, those people started accusing each other and then begun to fight amongst them. The brawl soon escalated and the guards were forced to intervene. He remembered seeing Kurt running around calling the other guards, while that little fur ball escaped unharmed. She had caused quite a mess. So, when he finally caught up to her he started to beat her up. Kicking her, however, was soon getting tiresome so he decided to make use of his knife. Her widened fearful eyes were quite satisfying to him as he raised his arm, getting ready to hit her. _Just one of her ears._ He thought as he lowered his arm.

The sound of metal against metal echoed in the hall, and Butch was thrown back, falling heavily on his ass. Little Lué realised, she was alive. Not understanding how, she raised her head and opened her eyes and saw all white. _I'm dead? Wait!_ It wasn't all white, it seemed to have some golden markings. Getting a bit back so that she could see better she noticed it was the blade of an axe. A beautiful axe with a familiar style. She then looked up and gasped. The Mark was standing near her, holding the axe in front of her. _Did she just save me?_ The axe and it's owner moved so they were now facing the raising figure across the floor. _She did save me! Whoa!_

The guy picked up his knife and got up, towering over The Mark. He looked homicidal, and put on the most threatening expression he could master. That lasted a full five seconds after which he had his back against the wall. He was this close ( ) to wetting his pants. He couldn't stand looking into her eyes, but at the same time he wasn't strong enough to look away. Her green/golden eyes were so full of anger they almost seemed to throw daggers at him. After a few seconds, which seemed like hours to him, he did wet his pants, dropped the knife and ran away, faster than anyone thought he ever could.

The Mark relaxed her muscles, breathed deeply and closed her eyes. She was too close to loosing control on herself. It seemed her emotions were tired of being bottled up for so long, they were edging to be released. Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt someone pulling down her coat. She turned and looked down to see the most thankful face she ever seen. Lué's eyes were wide open full of tears, and she buried it on her coat to hide it. A very light, sincere smile placed itself on The Mark's face and she tapped the little creature's head so that she looked up. She was stunned for a while, and then returned it with her big wide smile, and let go of her coat. She ruffled her strong hair, gaining some giggles, and walked off. Lué, at that moment felt nothing but appreciation for her. Later that night, she was absolutely sure they could escape that place. Together.

-----------To Be Continued----------

This time it is really over, this chapter that is. So, how was it?

How did you like my cliff-hanger threat? A friend of mine advised me not to do them so early in the story, for me to wait so that you were really hooked on it so then you would suffer more. Yeah, she's mean. I really wasn't thinking of making one now nor for a while, so no biggie. I'm curious to know what did you think was going to happen. Did you expect it exactly like it happen or different? What do you think of the fighting scenes so far? And what do you think of the characters so far:P

Due to unwelcome and unwanted (same thing, I know) developments, I won't be updating as frequently as I would like. I'll try to update soon.

Many kisses and hugs for all that read my story!

See ya soon!


	4. Chapter 4: Memories

I'm back! And yes, I'm still alive after over six months without updates, I'm really sorry for that. It took me that long to make up with my imaginary readers… ok, I'm lying, my brain was completely fried by the end of last exam season, then the new semester started and well, I kept postponing updates. But I never forgot about it. So now I'm back (for now).

Now, if you read the previous chapter you'll notice something mildly strange with the _Enchant Wind _thing. Truth is I think the Summon Night game have few elements, so I'll be adding some (such as Ice, Poison maybe Earth) and will have to change the color code a bit, so Wind will be gray from now on, the rest we'll see in time.

**Thank you**, _Jenvaati_. Once again I was very happy to read your review, and I'm very happy you're liking Lué (she's a bit like comic relief, at least compared with the Mark ;P). You really didn't like the second game, did you? To be honest I liked the first better (didn't even finished the second…). Anyway, and about the Beta Reader thing, I'm very flattered that you'd like to be mine, but since my update rate is so sporadic and I think I don't make that many mistakes (not anymore at least) I don't think it's necessary. I've read a whole lot worse and I honestly don't want the trouble… (mine nor yours ;P). So let's just leave it at that :D

-Bios

The Mark – A mysterious girl with an equally mysterious past, one that seems to haunt her. Part of that past seems to be connected with her left mechanical arm, her arm apparently lost in some sort of battle. Her fighting style is characterized by strategy and speed as well as strength. Though normally highly unsocial, she begins to soften a bit and show more her emotions greatly due to the presence of Lué.

Bret - The main guard responsible for the Mark, though it doesn't prevent him of attending to other assignments.

Bylrom – The Big Boss, he governs the Arena and all it's affairs, either about The Mark or kitchen staff.

Serge – He works for Bylrom and is apparently on assignment during The Mark's last fight.

Speaker voice- He announces the fights.

Kurt a.k.a. Stupid-hair – Seems that Kurt has some authority among the other guards of the Arena complex. He doesn't mind bending some rules to get the job done.

Lué – A small Summon creature with a special talent to get into trouble. She is determined if a bit of a distracting nature. She yearns to be free above all else and believes the way to freedom is in the Mark.

-End of bios

Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything about Summon Night (except this story and all the changes I'm doing the basics of this universe…)

Chapter 4: Memories

Bylrom's office was actually quite cosy. It had a wide window, with a view to the outside. The compound was surrounded by grassy hills full of trees and crossed by a river. The river passed near the building, between it and a high cliff. The room had a large fireplace, a nice wood desk and a few chairs, besides the leather one he was sitting at. The whole ensemble was of a dark brown and red, with a few tinges of gold. The walls had paintings and several shelves filled with a wide variety of books.

He was going through some papers, obviously anxious about something, when a knock on the door almost made him jump off his chair. He pulled himself together and said:

"Who is it?" He asked in apparent calm.

"It's me." Came the answer from behind the door.

"Come in, Serge." He said with impatience.

Serge opened the door and entered the office. He didn't have that smugly attitude that seemed to be so characteristically stamped on his face, but he looked somewhat tired. It must have been a long day. He crossed the room and sat on one of the chairs in front of the desk and just stayed there, with his eyes closed breathing tiredly.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Bylrom asked nervously, whatever attempt he did to control his anxiety failed miserably.

"We ran into a bit of a problem… several in fact…" He said looking up at Bylrom. He looked like crap. "Luckily we had some unexpected assistance."

"You were attacked?" He cried in almost horror, rising from his chair. "She wasn't…"

"She's fine. I'm not entirely sure what their target was, but everyone and everything is fine."

Bylrom fell heavily back in the chair, relief plainly showing on his features. He took a deep breath and then frowned. Suddenly remembering something Serge had said, he turned to him and was about to ask something when Serge cut him off.

"A boy, no… a young man was walking the same road as us when the attack took place. He helped us out greatly, there would certainly have been casualties were not for his assistance." He said, anticipating his question. Noticing a still existing frown turning into a thoughtful expression he added: "He was a magnificent fighter, better than any of my men."

Serge saw with pleasure and a smirk as Bylrom's face changed for one he knew well. He'd always had that expression when he saw an opportunity smiling at him.

"He was going into the city, looking for work. Oh, so he said. He's also a craftknight, what are the odds of that?" He smiled as he saw Bylrom's smile, and once again cut him off.

"He's just outside. I might have mentioned something about you wanting to thank him in person." He concluded his objective reached. "Before that however, I'd like to know. How did her fight go?"

His only response was a tricky smile. Somehow, Serge knew there was a very interesting story behind that smile.

---------- ----------

She was staring at the ceiling again, she seemed to be doing that a lot in the last months. _Damn, has it been three months?_ She thought, closing her eyes.

Three months had passed since that day, and soon after that she was caught by some thugs who then sold her to Bylrom and she's been here ever since. She sat on her bed with her eyes closed for a few moments, then reached in her jacket's pocket and took something out, a watch.

"Four thirty… great!" She put the watch back and got off the bed. She hadn't slept through the night since that day, but for the first time in months it wasn't the nightmares keeping her awake. She just wasn't sleepy, like there was an electric current running through her preventing it. She didn't know why. She was tired of laying on the bed staring at nothing and counting imaginary sheep, yes it had come to that.

So, deciding to make the best of her insomnia she walked to the corner of the room, where she had thrown her weapon case, and took her weapons out, placing them on the bed. She had one of each type, a sword, a spear, an axe, a pair of knuckles, a drill and a gun. _Inspection time!_ So, she hadn't made any weapon since then, but the ones she had still needed maintenance.

She picked up the axe. The side of it she was looking at (the same that Lué had seen that day) wasn't all that bad, a bit scratched here and there, blade still sharp, but… she made a face just before turning to the other side of the weapon, and saw exactly what she was expecting. _A mess, a total horrible mess_. This side had cracks, deep scratches, there were even parts, small parts missing. She frowned at the recollection of the events that led to such a disaster.

It had been about a month and a half since she started fighting at the Arena, and her opponent was a drill user. In her previous fight she had used and abused of her knuckles, the left hand one was completely wasted, and her sword needed repairs from last week's battle, repairs she had been postponing thinking to herself: _I'll do that tomorrow_, the damage wasn't that bad, but against a drill… So she had no choice but to use her axe and hope for a lucky swing, which took it's time. A couple more blows and the axe was scrap, having taken a real big ass beating from that drill. Luckily the drill also took it's share of damage and didn't resist that last swing. She won, but the axe was beyond salvation. Still she kept it, even if now it was just for show, like the other day in the hall.

She looked at the drill next. The drill was made of the same white material as her other weapons and had several golden spiked like chains all around the rotor, making it totally viciously destructive and made a really cool effect when turned on. Now, though still impressive and still with great destructive power, some of the spikes were missing and the motor didn't work properly. She turned it on and listened to it. There was definitely something loose or broken in there, and it only worked for short periods of time. It rotated for tree minutes before making a weird screech and stopped. She couldn't fix the drill itself, since, among other thing, she lacked the materials to make more spikes, and she didn't have precision tools to handle the motor, another one she couldn't count on.

Next, spear. This one didn't look too damaged, but at a closer inspection she realised that the sharp end wasn't so sharp anymore. That is what she had been fixing in the spear the last couple of times, since she used a lot of thrust moves while using the spear, the tip of the blade always needed sharpening after a battle. The girl feared that more of these patch fixes would wear it too thin, and consequently, useless. She sighed and placed it back on the bed to fix it, the "beyond repair" ones she was placing back in the weapon case.

Knuckles. Or, more precisely, knuckle. She only had the right hand one now. It was a fingerless leather glove of a more gold like tone, much like her jacket, and attached to it was a white metal plate, covering the knuckles, and, on the plate there was four small, sharp golden blades. Last time she was able to break the staff of a spear with those. However, the plate that held the blades had a really big crack in it, it wouldn't last long. And once more she lacked the materials to properly fix it. She sighed again and put it away.

The gun. This was a weapon she used very little, it had that old cowboy style, white handle and golden framing and "pipes". It wasn't loaded, so she turned the "roulette" and pulled the trigger a couple of times, seeing that the mechanism was in working condition. Then she twirled it around in her hand, like the cowboys do, grabbing it suddenly and pointing at the wall resisting the urge to say some Clint Eastwood like cliché. _Who's Clint Eastwood anyway?_ She sighed again. _Too bad I'm outta ammo…_ And she threw it back in the case.

Finally, the sword. Though the one she used, and liked the most, it didn't have any major problems. It was also the one she wielded with more skill, hence being able to fight without damaging it much.

So, that was the result of three months of using the same weapons over and over again… two in _possible_ working condition, she still had to mend that spear.

She went into her weapon case to retrieve the items she would need, and held the staff of the spear with her left hand, setting the tip of the blade on the anvil. She examined it once more, mentally selecting the exact motions and places she was going to work on. Starting the fix, she noticed her left hand twitch slightly and disregarded it. A few seconds later the same hand jerked violently and the spear went flying, stabbing itself on the wall on the other side of the room, as the girl grabbed her left arm and gritted her teeth in pain.

"Damn it!"

She held it down with a firm grip, but her whole arm kept jerking. Then, a little less till it finally stopped. She was sweating a bit and leaned against the wall breathing heavily, her arms to her sides. She calmed down and raised her left arm. The metal shone in the light as she turned it around looking for some damage. _Guess this thing also needs maintenance once in a while._

---------- Flashback ----------

Her eyes opened slowly, flinching at the sun's light that passed through the window and groaned a very un-lady like groan.

_Where am I?_ She wondered sitting on the bed and analysing her surroundings. It was a small room, a bed, a desk, a door, a chair, a window with ugly curtains and the walls were of a shade of pale green.

_How the hell…?_ She raised her hand to her forehead, a headache suddenly forming. The cold metal felt nice… _Wait a second… cold metal?!_ Her head jerked back as she stretched her arm forward. It was metal! Her arm just above the elbow down to the tip of her fingers was made of metal. _How?_ Then she remembered. On the hill, the attack and her arm melting away. How could she forget and… Sina…

Her Guardian Beast, Sina took a hard hit and was thrown off a cliff, the hit preventing her from flying. The girl grabbed her hand, refusing to let go. The knight stood there next to her, he could have thrown her off as well but he just stood there. She could feel his eyes staring at her, then that other one hovered down the cliff. Tilting her head to the side, she raised her hand and pointed at Sina. Energy started gathering at her palm and a fire burst left it hitting both their hands, melting half her arm and half of her friend. After that she only remembered loosing her strength and falling into the abyss, looking up at the knight then she lost conscience and woke up there.

She looked at her arm again. Why wasn't she dead? _I should be the dead one…_she sighed and laid back down.

Then she heard voices. She got up and went to the door. Opening it slightly and silently, she peered in the other room.

"So, she'll be fine?" Said someone, seemed old and female.

"Should be! The implant was a success and the rest of her seems to be recovering well, though I'm no doctor." A much younger female voice said.

"Those are good news!" Said an other one, this one seemed old and male. "May, you think we should try to find the young man who brought the girl? He seemed concerned. He might want to know that she is going to be ok."

_Young man? Who might that be?_

An old woman came into sight and she stepped back a bit. She was tall, had long silver hair and kind features, she wore a two piece dress with a white shirt and a long blue skirt.

"We could, but how will we find him? He didn't say anything about that, where would we look?"

"You have a point there." Now the old man came into her field of vision. He was tall, though surprisingly not as tall as the old woman, had short grey hair and wore a worn out brown leather jacket and simple pants.

"Well, I must be off. Still have stuff to do." Said the young one. "See ya!"

She could hear a door opening and someone walking through it and the old folks walked out of sight and in that general direction.

The girl leaned against the door, raising her arm into her line of vision. She had to admit, it was a real masterpiece, not only her shape looked exactly like the real deal, except the metallic colour but it moved exactly like a normal arm, from the elbow to the tip of her fingers. Whoever made it was a genius.

She heard a door close and foot steppes in the house and once again placed herself listening.

"I'm glad the girl is going to be fine. It gave me quite a scare seeing that young man just showing up at our door with an unconscious girl in his arms with half her arm missing." The old woman, May said.

"It was quite an impressionable sight. The girl is fine now, that's what's important." The old man sighed as, it sounded, he leaned back in a couch out of view from the door. "Good thing too that Nya passed by. Now the girl won't have to go through the rest of her live with only one arm."

"Yes, she will live… but however her life is I hope she can overcome whatever tragedy that happened. Maybe we…"

She didn't hear any more as she slowly closed and locked the door and walked into the middle of her small room. Memories of… she didn't even know how many days had passed. Those thoughts wouldn't go away. _Then I'll have to!_

She grabbed her coat that was on a chair, picked up her weapon case and strapped it to her waist and started opening the window. The frame screeched loudly and she could hear movement and voices from the other room.

"What was that? Did you hear something?" The man said.

Throwing caution to the side, she forced the window open and with impressive agility, considering she was carrying a heavy weapon case strapped at her waist, she jumped out of the window and ran into the bushes of the woods that surrounded the house. By the time the old couple got into the room, she was long gone.

-----------End of Flashback----------

That seemed so long ago. She wondered if she was ever going to see that nice old couple again. She really should thank them for helping her. That Nya woman too, and whoever the young man who they mentioned was as well.

She stood up, having sat while remembering those events, and walked to her spear firmly stabbed in the wall. She pulled it out and looked at it. Then she walked back to the anvil, picked up the hammer and sharpening stone that she had abruptly dropped moments earlier, and resumed her work on the weapon.

Once her work was done, she packed her stuff up then dropped on the bed. Soon she was having her first dreamless peaceful sleep in a long time.

-----------To Be Continued----------

So, how was it? Probably not what you'd expect after six month, but tough! ;P

A bit shorter, I know. I was planning on it being longer, putting in the next chapter I'm almost done with, but then it would be too long… No battles in this one but a greater insight on her past (that's important too, right?). Should finish the next chapter in a week or so (I'm back in exam season, what a pain…).

If you're interested in a little spoiler, or if you prefer, a small glimpse of future events check my profile, there is a link to a place where I post some drawings. Just browse around till you find my Terra's Song album (only one drawing at the moment ;P).

Hope you liked it, and I hope you read more of me soon ;P


	5. Chapter 5: The Big Fight

Here I am again!!! I think I'll stop putting deadlines since I seem so keen on disrespect them…

Anyway, moving along…

-Bios

The Mark – A young woman who's an excellent craftknight and fighter. Her past is marked by the loss of her arm and the loss of her Guardian Beast and friend, Sina, against an unknown opponent and his summon creature. After she blacked out in that fight, someone found her and brought her into the care of an old couple, that along with an other girl, tended her back to health with a new metallic arm. Survivor's guilt is probably why, for the length of three month, she was so unsocial and hostile towards those around her. Though, it is obvious she's starting to change…

Sina – The Mark's Guardian beast and friend who met an abrupt dead.

Old couple. May and unnamed (yet) old man- A nice old couple that nursed her back to health after loosing her arm.

Nya- Unknown female, apparently responsible for her mechanical arm implant.

Dark Knight and his Guardian Beast- A pair that attacked the Mark and Sina without any signs of provocation.

Young man- Unknown young man who brought her to the old couple to help her.

Bylrom – The Boss responsible for all the business that goes around in the Arena Complex. He recently sent Serge on a mysterious assignment, to which he seemed abnormally concerned about.

Serge – He works for Bylrom and was sent out on a job recently. His men were attacked but they were able to reach their destination greatly due to the help of a good Samaritan.

Unknown Young Man – Someone that helped Serge's convoy allowing them to reach the Arena Complex safely. He is apparently in search of employment.

-End of bios

Disclaimer: What do you people want from me? No, I don't own anything… happy now?!?!

**Chapter 5: The Big Fight**

Bret was stunned. He was currently walking the halls in the general direction of the Mark's room but his thoughts hadn't quite left the Arena yet. Today's tournament had been outstanding. They introduced this young man, around twenty if that many, and he dispatched all of his opponents with such speed and skill that could only be compared to that of the Mark herself. He was ecstatic with the idea of watching those two fighting each other. She'd finally get an opponent of her level.

He stopped in front of her room, took a deep breath and opened the door. And there she was, sitting at the edge of her bed, hands on the bed and legs stretched forward. Her head was slightly tilted to the side and her posture seemed almost relaxed. He cleared his throat to call her attention, more out of habit than anything else.

He was very surprised to see her tilt her head back and look at him. Her expression was as emotionless as ever but not as hostile as she normally was. For a moment he lost his focus, her eyes, though not less intense, were different. They no longer made him feel so uncomfortable and were actually warm and mesmerizing. She gave him an inquiring look. He stood straight, cleared his throat then spoke:

"You have a new opponent. Get ready."

Surprisingly she pushed herself out of bed and got up, still looking at him. She then turned, grabbed her coat, strapped her weapon case to her waist and walked to him stopping centimetres from him. He side stepped to give her passage and she slightly nodded her thanks and walked out of the room. He was still standing in the middle of the room, stunned once more.

_What is this, "Scare the shit outta Bret" day? _He couldn't stop thinking this was some kind of joke. First this kid shows up outta nowhere and beats everyone without breaking a sweat then _SHE _actually seems nice, or at least nicer… _What in the name of Zeus' butt-hole is going on here?!?_

Outside the room, the girl leaned against a wall while looking at him. She was getting bored. She cleared her throat making him jump and turn. He then walked out of the room, closed the door and said:

"Ok, ready? Let's go"

She could tell from his walk that something was in his mind. However her social skills were still a far off from what they used to be, so she kept quiet.

After a walking for a while, he was so distracted he took the wrong turn a couple of times, her having to re-direct him to the right path, they arrived to her all too familiar armoured door. Bret nervously jiggled his keys looking for the appropriate one and then opened the door. She nodded again and walked through it.

"Good luck!" He said, as he usually did, adding as an after thought: _You might need it this time!_

She turned to him slowly and looked him straight in the eyes. She could tell it made him more nervous (if that was possible). She smiled a genuine sweet smile. Then she turned back and walked down the tight corridor onto the arena. It must have been at least five minutes before he moved again.

--------------------- --------------------

The Arena was packing.

Bylrom sat comfortably in his big armchair as he made small talk with his guests. Several big shots from several important, and somewhat shady, companies and some, dirty, politicians sat with him in the V.I.P. chamber and they talked business in between the fights. They enjoyed greatly their entertainment and couldn't help to compliment him on his operation.

The pre-Big Fight tournament had just finished with a series of flawless victories by a young man. Everybody in the audience was very surprised with his performance and rumours started spreading on how and if he could beat the undefeated Mark. Bets were rising in number and value, and Bylrom had to admit, even for The Mark, it was going to be a though battle.

There was a knock at the door and the host turned to see who it was. At the sight of Serge, he excused himself for a moment and stepped outside while he others present in the booth nodded their approval and resumed their prior conversations.

Closing the door silently, he turned to Serge, who was leaning against the wall, and inquired:

"Is everything set?"

"Everything is underway." Serge replied. He then opened his eyes and turned to face Bylrom completely. "And in there?"

"Everyone is happy… and impressed, as am I, with the talent of the young man you brought." He said smiling.

"Have you considered his request?" He looked at him intently, eyes scanning his for a reaction.

Bylrom turned serious, but there was a glow in his eyes.

"He is very good, the best ever. However I don't believe he can beat her."

Serge couldn't prevent a smirk creeping in his features. Amazing how much faith he had on that girl, on her abilities that he just exploited for his own profit. Of course if inquired about it, Bylrom would say "It's not faith, it's an investment!" and he did invest in her greatly.

"Whatever the result, I am willing to offer him a job though. He is an amazing fighter, I would be a fool if I let this opportunity slide." And indeed, a fool he was not.

Bylrom glanced at his golden Rolex.

"It's almost time." He said while heading to the door. Seeing Serge didn't move he turned to him. "You're coming?" He asked raising an eyebrow.

"Nah." He said, getting off the wall. "I don't mix well with _suits_." He said while turning in the opposite direction. He raised his hand and waved back at him. "I'll see it from the lower booth, enjoy the fight!" He finished and turned a corner, falling out of view.

"Oh, I'm sure I will!" He whispered to himself. He then turned the knob and re-entered the room. "Let's get on with the show, shall we?" He said as he closed the door.

----------- ----------

"Well, here we are again! Everyone is having fun?" The speaker voiced echoed over the screams and cheers of the crowd. "Of course you are! We have already seen a great demonstration of power and skill from today's tournament winner, but the question remains… will it be enough?"

The crowd roared louder, if that was possible, and in the end one couldn't tell if they were saying yes or no.

_Of course it won't be enough! No one can beat her!_ Lué scowled at the speakers. She was back at her hiding place but was trying to be more careful this time, so she wouldn't be seen and not risk causing another riot…

"Will it be enough to take on The Mark? Let's find out, shall we? In the north corner… his performance today leaves little to add, you've all seen him, give it up for Connor!!!"

The crowd's cheers were deafening as the north gate rose and a young man walked through it. He looked to be around his early twenties, had red hair that reached his shoulders and almost covered his eyes and wore loose dark blue jeans, a dark red t-shirt, with some writings in a language no one seemed to recognize, over a light grey long sleeves shirt. There weren't many females in the audience, but the ones that were there all fanned themselves (with their hands in the absence of fans), not for the first time, and some even whistle at him. He was quite the handsome young man.

Over his left shoulder a figure hovered. It was small and dark blue shaped like an F-15 (or something like that) with a red "nose". The boy's Guardian Beast held it's ground (air?), hovering slightly higher in order to have a broader view of the Arena.

"And on the south corner…" The speaker voice spoke again. "There's HER! Little needs more to be said. You all know Her, and if you don't you are not from this planet. Give it up for… THE MARK!!!"

The south gate rose and once more the Mark crossed it. The crowd cheered loudly as she crossed the path and approached her opponent.

Connor wasn't particularly stunned, but he was surprised. He'd heard a lot of the Mark so far, even before he entered the Arena complex. He knew the Mark was an excellent craftknight and an extraordinary warrior. He was surprised to see it was a young woman. However, he wasn't fooled. _One doesn't get that type of reputation over nothing. She must be good._ He thought.

When she reached the middle of the battle space and looked up at her opponent she was also a little surprised, though her features never showed it. _He's kinda cute._ She thought, and narrowed her eyes. _And he's strong, I can tell. This is going to be fun. _Then, she smirked.

Connor raised his eyebrows. Watching her up close, she was a beautiful woman. Toned in all the right places, her hair tied up in a low ponytail and her eyes… her eyes were mesmerizing, like nothing he had ever seen before. Then, she smirked. It wasn't a mocking smirk like she knew she'd win, nor was it a reassurance smirk to boost her confidence. Somehow he could tell, they both could. They were both strong and it was going to be a fierce battle. He smirked too. That smirk, it was a challenge.

The guardian Beast hovered from side to side till it caught a glimpse of both of them smirking. _Oh boy…_ It thought.

----------- ----------

Little Lué, from her hiding spot on the benches, raised her eyebrows in surprise. _Did she just smirk? Why? What could this mean? Ara…No way?!?_

_----------- ----------_

"What a..?" Serge was equally surprised. But, as a smirk master (;P) that he was, he would recognize that one anywhere.

"Oh, this IS going to be interesting…" And he smirked

---------- ----------

Connor reached over his shoulder and pulled out a long black staff with a red blade at it's end. The blade shone in the Arena light.

_That blade is __ perfect!_ The Mark noticed. She moved her eyes from the blade to her opponents face. _A craftknight, huh? This is going to interesting._ And she, herself, reached to her case and pulled out her sword. The white blade caught the light and reflected the colours of the rainbow.

They both bend their legs in an attack position, to the surprise of everyone watching. Their eyes locked on the other. And they waited for a sign.

"Ahm…" The speaker voice started…

But he never got the chance to finish since the two figures launched at each other with tremendous speed and were parrying each other's attack before anyone realised what was going on. They held their ground, each trying to gain an advantage over the other. They struggled for a while then they both jumped back, never taking their eyes of each other.

They stood there as the crowed seemed to awaken and loud cheers erupted from everywhere. But they weren't listening. She positioned herself again but, instead of following her movements, he raised his left arm up calling her attention to the Guardian Beast that hovered above them.

The F-15 like plane lowered so that he was "standing" in front of its master waiting for a command.

"Zero! AQUA TORNADO!" Connor screamed, and Zero started to glow a light blue.

"Oh, crap!" She mumbled.

Zero started gathering energy in front of him.

The Mark turned the blade in her hand.

The strong blue light that enveloped the small plane covered the energy in front of it.

She held the hilt of the blade with both hands, raising them above her head.

A massive water tornado burst from the blue energy and headed straight at the girl.

Her eyes closed shut as she fell down on one knee, stabbing the blade on the hard ground.

The water slammed against her with brutal force, continuing its path and reaching the wall behind her with such strength that splatter reached the nearest seats. The water flowed for a few seconds, after which Zero stopped glowing.

The crowed gaped.

Looking over his Guardian Beast, Connor stared at the scenario. The water path was clearly visible due to the wet earth and wall. Within that wet line, and just a few centimetres from her original position, was The Mark soaked to the bones, her hair in wet disarray. Still in her kneeling position, she raised her head, exhaling the breath she'd been holding.

Looking, now, to her opponent, she stood up, supporting herself slightly on the sword. Her eyes narrowed. He snapped out of his mild trance, and resumed his attack position.

She held her hand in front of her in a stop sign. Everyone was shocked. Was she quitting?

He stood straight, giving her the time she asked, probably to recover a bit from his attack. Zero, that was still in front of him, also highly surprised that she withstood its attack, rose once more to a height where he could see the battle, answer his master's call rapidly and basically, stay out of their way.

However, instead of resting, she took her left hand to her waist, her right hand still holding her blade, and she unstrapped her weapon case, holding it a couple centimetres from the ground. She dropped it, making it fall heavily on the ground, stretched her neck and shoulders and placed herself once more in an attack position.

Only then did Connor realise that her Guardian Beast was nowhere to be seen. If she was a craftknight then she'd have to have one. So where was it? Looking back at her, he saw her waiting. He shook his head and resumed his position. He had other thing to worry about and couldn't afford to get distracted, mainly the blond haired girl standing in front of him.

They both walked in opposite directions, rounding an inexistent centre. And, following an unseen sign, once more they both charged. Connor threw his arm forward, attacking her with his spear. She brought her sword around, deflecting his attack and swung her blade back at him, who blocked with the staff, moving it trying to get her off balanced. His attempt failed as she backed slightly then thrust her blade forward, he evaded and brought his spear around to trip her. She dove over the staff, rolling on the ground and quickly turned, raising the sword above her head in time to parry his high swing. He twirled the spear, bringing the blunt end at her from beneath. She brought the sword to the side and leaned all the way back, his attack missing by millimetres. She rolled back and stood quickly as he turned over himself, gaining speed and swung wide at her. She turned her face to the side just in time to avoid a serious injury, having his blade knit her beneath her right eye.

Recovering from the momentum, Connor readied himself for her retaliation. She stood there for a few seconds, her head still leaning to the side. She turned to face him, her eyes a deep shade of green, a light trail of blood, like a tear, rolling down her cheek. She narrowed her eyes, a mix of anger and excitement crossing her body. He also narrowed his eyes. Her pose had changed.

"Warm up's over." She whispered loud enough for him to hear. She twirled her blade in her hand.

_Warm up?!? __She can't be serious?!?!?!?_

"Time to get serious." And then she smirked.

_She's serious. Oh boy…_He thought, a mix of excitement and slight fear invading him. _This' gonna hurt in the morning…_

She placed herself. Legs apart, slightly bend, one in front of the other. Left arm in front of her, parallel to the ground, right arm to her back holding the sword so its tip was pointed to her opponent.

He adopted his own _serious_ battle stance and waited. He wouldn't be the first to move, to betray his movements and _tell_ her his strategy. So he waited.

She tilted her head to the side.

"Let's dance."

She moved so fast that he barely had time to raise his spear to parry her attack. Her attack blocked, she quickly turned and stroke again to which he blocked with some difficulty. It was harder to read her movements. For less that a second, it was all the time he could spare, he remember how she tossed her weapon case. _She's lighter now, and much faster…_ he realised as he blocked her attack once more.

Instead of becoming irritated with each failed attack, she was peeved. _I don't remember ever having such a good opponent.__Let's see you dodge this!_

She charged at him again, him having recovered from her sudden change in speed, and thrust her blade directly at his face. He deflected her attack but she got too close and hit him in the stomach with the hilt of her sword and elbow, making him loose his breath and step back.

As he gaped for air she thrust her blade again but he recovered enough to get out of her way and was only cut lightly on his left shoulder. She turned again, he had recovered completely by then, and swung at him. He parried and countered with a low swing, she dodged and swung high. He crouched and swept her legs. She fell but immediately flipped herself up again just in time to avoid being hit by the blunt end of his spear and stepped back a bit. Breathing in she advanced again only to be stopped by his low to high swing, he then got up to her rapidly and thrust the spear at her. She raised her sword in an odd angle so that she could deflect the attack and he stepped behind her. Grabbing his spear by both ends he pinned her between the staff and him in a way that her movements were very restricted and she couldn't move her weapon at all.

"Danm it!" She cursed while trying to get free, but his grip on her was too strong.

"Let go!" She yelled at him while struggling.

"Yeah, right." He said it, but her squirming was making it hard on him to hold her._ Hold still, damn it!_ He thought because he wouldn't dare say it.

She suddenly stopped fighting, and for the second time that day the crowed silenced, wondering if she was quitting. Connor was surprised and relieved. He was about to loose his grip. He took her moment of stillness to adjust his hands and strengthen his hold on the spear again. But then her stillness disturbed him, why had she stopped and given him the opportunity to recover his strength. _She's up to something._ So he pulled the staff, and her, closer limiting her motions even more.

"Too late." She whispered almost in his ears since they were so close. He shivered slightly. Her voice was sweeter than it sounded seconds ago. So soft and spoken in such a breath taking way that send shivers down his spine just remembering it.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya." She whispered, louder this time and not so sweetly. Her words took a few seconds to register.

She smirked.

He frowned.

She head butted him.

Thought he dropped her and stepped backwards immediately after the blow, it took him a full ten seconds to realise what had happened. That, and that he had an excruciating head ache.

She stumbled forward, quickly regaining her balance, turned and looked at him. The look of utter surprise in his face almost made her giggle, which she was able to turn into a wide smirk.

"Feeling better?" She asked again with her sweet voice though with a slight, if yet obvious mocking tone.

He snapped out of his confusion and stared at her. She stood in front of him, trying to act all innocent, but not able to hide that smirk and amused eyes. He glared at her, his anger and excitement rising to dangerous levels and he's mind grew focus on just one thing. Her.

Somehow, she sensed the difference. _I think I pissed him off…_ she thought. Her smirk disappeared and, like him, she focused all her attention on him.

Both just stood there for a few seconds, staring each other down. Then, and like they've done so many times that day, they charged at each other.

---------- -----------

From his high position, Zero could see the battle perfectly. He never thought that she was that good. He couldn't even believe Connor was that good. He certainly never seen him fight like that, and they'd been together for two years now.

_Not even against…_Zero almost flinched (if robots can flinch) when suddenly her strike connected, cutting him on the leg. Zero adjusted his position in order to see and was relieved (once again, if a mechanoid can feel relief) to see it wasn't serious.

He sighed (…) as the thought "_Humans…_" crossed his circuits. Of course he could understand, to an extent that Connor wanted to measure himself against such a great opponent on his own, but he couldn't help but feel a bit neglected. _No, that's not all._ There was more to it, and he knew it.

Connor had not called him again since he realised the girl didn't have a Guardian Beast of her own. He didn't want to have an unfair advantage over her, and he surely felt some guilt after Zero's Aqua Tornado attack. Guilt Zero was sure was fading rapidly as another of her attacks cut him in the chest, luckily only reaching his under shirt. Of course, he still wouldn't call him. He took honour extremely serious. He was weird like that.

_Humans…_

---------- -----------

_Whoa! That was close!_ Lué watched as the Mark barely dodged a high swing from her opponent, only cutting a bit of her hair.

Lué wasn't very knowledgeable about this whole fighting thing, but she could recognize a good fight and great fighters when she saw them. And that was the best and most exciting battle she had ever seen and doubted she'd ever see again. After that head butt scene, things got even more serious than before. They were at each other's throats like their life depended on it, which she was pretty (almost) sure wasn't the case.

_Oh my…_ She held her breath and leaned even more on the railings, she had abandoned all stealth since the Aqua Tornado event, that it was a wonder how she hadn't fallen over it yet. She'd been hit! The blunt end of the boy's spear had hit her smack in her left temple and left her a bit dazed, not being able to dodge as he tripped her and she fell on the ground.

_C'mon, c'mon! Get up!_ Like she'd herd her plea, the hit with the ground seemed to wake her up and she rolled to the side, away from him, just in time to evade a new attack. But he didn't stop and continued striking at her fallen form, only hitting the ground as she kept on rolling out of harms way. Getting tired of rolling in the ground, she slowed enough to change her position slightly, also allowing him to get closer. And as she successfully turned, still on the ground and rolled, this time back, being cut on her left thigh in the meanwhile. She stood but he was still coming at her, so she took advantage of the gained momentum and back flipped a couple times finishing with a backwards mortal.

The crowd cheered at the show of acrobatic mastery and Lué found herself clapping and cheering as well. _She's really good at that too!_

She recovered as he was slightly stunned at her show. Not letting himself be intimidated, however, both went at it again.

---------- ----------

On the lower private booth, Serge was glued to the glass. He could hardly remember ever witnessing such an amazing fight, especially between so young opponents.

_She's better than I ever imagined._ Sure, he knew that one can achieve such grandeur on their lonesome and the boy certainly deserved some merit, but he had eyes only for her.

_This is possibly the fight of her life._ He looked down, disconnecting himself temporarily from the wall. _Man, I wish I was him._ He couldn't stop but feel a (big) bit jealous. He always knew she was good, but for her to reach such a high level. A level he yearned for so long.

He sighed and raised his eyes, still full of a type of lust in them, back at the Arena just in time to see him dodge and bee immediately hit by the hilt of her sword across his ribs. He had to smile at that.

---------- -----------

They both took a moment to recover their breaths. They were both breathing a bit hard and were both had taken their share of damage.

The Mark had several shallow cuts along her right arm and a few in her legs and torso. The scratch under her right eye had stop bleeding, but that blow to her head, that made her see stars, broke the skin and was now gushing over her left eye. Not to mention it hurt like hell. She had lost count on her bruises.

Connor wasn't much better. His forehead was considerably swollen, from an unexpected head butt and from all the light cuts he had all over his chest, legs and arms, the more severe ones were the one on his left shoulder, that had been there the longest and just as it started to stop bleeding, a new attack opened it more again, right thigh, that had slow him down considerably allowing her to make that deep cut in his right hand._ That's gonna leave a scar…_

They were both assessing their injuries and their opponent's when their eyes met again. And as soon as that happened, they charged at each other again. He went high, she ducked, turned and swung her blade at his side. He blocked and took her out of balance and stroke at her left side with his staff. Out of balance, she didn't have many choices so she did the only thing she could do. She brought her left arm up to block the attack.

The blow hit at full force but her arm didn't waver. Instead there was a loud _clank_ sound of metal against metal. The Mark's eyes widened and Connor frowned.

_What the hell was that?_ He thought as he looked at his weapon, still in the place where it hit her arm.

_Oh crap… _She thought. She knew there was that risk, but she didn't thought it would be that loud.

Taking advantage of his confusion and decided to take his focus off the recent events, she stood up and tried a high round kick. That did it, he snapped out of it and backed a bit. Then they both swung their blades at each other. He brought his spear down just before the weapons connected and got her in the stomach, cutting deep. She was hurt badly but didn't halt her attack, cutting him severely in his, and already extremely abused, left shoulder. They both staggered back, breathing very hard and holding their more recent serious injuries.

They were exhausted, sweating, bleeding and both knew they couldn't go on for much longer. As they gazed upon their weapons they realised those wouldn't withstand much more damage either. They were already beyond repair.

Their eyes, once more, rose to their opponents.

_Just._

_One._

_More. _

_Time._

They got ready for one last charge.

Five metres.

She ran to him, both hands holding her sword down, to her left.

He ran to her, holding the staff with both hands, arms crossed, blade pointing up and to his left.

Three metres.

Her hands squeezed the hilt, her visible knuckles turning white.

His grip strengthened, slightly twisting the spear.

Two metres.

They both threw their arms back, readying their swings.

One and a half metres.

They both started swinging their blades. Hers coming from below, his from above.

0ne metre.

The blades were centimetres from each other and…

They connected!

Both fighters kept their movements stopping a few steppes away from one another, their hands still in their "post-swing" positions. Hers high, his low.

And after a low flight, a broken blade landed between them.

The entire Arena stood from their seats, trying to see whose blade had broken.

The dark red blade lay there, stabbed in the Arena floor.

"THE MARK WINS!!!"

The noise that flooded the Arena was deafening.

In the pit, both warriors stood straight and turned to each other. Their eyes met, no sorrow nor regret in them.

They crossed the short distance between them. He smiled and stretched his hand at her, and she took it with a sincere smile of her own.

-----------To Be Continued----------

Now, there you go. Nice LONG chapter, probably the longest I'll ever write (yeah right). Hope you liked it.

Oh, and don't worry. That deep silence you're hearing, my imaginary readers are speechless XD. I either impressed them greatly with my writing, or they fell asleep…

And you should consider yourself lucky people, I actually considered stopping before I revealed which blade had been broken. Yeah, I'm a softy.


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